A Modern Nuclear
by nursehelena
Summary: With the atomic age long past, families rarely consist of a man, his wife, and their children. Some families still tend to slip into that dynamic, though…even at Mordhaus.


The pile of boxes brought in earlier by the klokateers slowly dwindled as Pickles unpacked his belongings. The trip from Florida left him bleary-eyed, almost too much so to fully appreciate his new room's high ceilings and private bathroom. The square footage itself easily trumped their entire, old apartment.

"Still waitin' on yer bed?"

"Yeah," Nathan replied. Although the band no longer needed to cross paths or intrude on the others' space, the frontman made himself comfortable here rather than tended to his own move-in. "It's not gonna be here until tomorrow."

"How're they even gonna get it through yer door?"

"I dunno. S'long as they do." Nathan had created a nest for himself, bunching up all of Pickles' pillows and blankets on one side of the king-sized mattress. He folded his fingers behind his head. "I can't fucking wait. Even this seems small."

"Heh." Pickles opened the next box. More booze. Maybe he should have invested in another alcohol cabinet. When Charles got back from whatever PR disaster he and Murderface dealt with, he'd put the order in. "Biggest I've ever had, so."

"What're you even gonna fill your room with? It's fucking bare."

Pickles wasn't sure yet. Like Skwisgaar, he didn't rush to cram as many material goods in as possible. It'd happen on its own time; for now, he disagreed with Nathan on its empty nature. So long as the other man lounged here, Pickles considered the room at maximum capacity. Nathan's combined personality and physical presence introduced significant energy anywhere he went. Even Mordhaus' titanic size proved no exception. Unconsciously, a sigh on the frontman's part edged Pickles closer to the wall.

For occupying another man's bed, Nathan's easement forced Pickles to take a second glance. Right there laid the maturation of his tastes. Once upon the nineteen-eighties, Pickles loved colour. His fingers and mouth would run through purple hair and over pink pants while he laughed at the bright language that emerged from behind a mass of curls. Pickles' world since yielded to darkness, and now the only colour he wanted anymore was green; green like the eyes that sheened as their foreheads touched, green like the permission Pickles gave when Amazonian barbarism manifested behind closed doors, green like the grass stain he once got on his back because they couldn't wait long enough to get inside. Craving that colour and unable to find it elsewhere in his room, Pickles abandoned his preoccupation to perch atop Nathan. His mouth pulled into a crooked grin when the other man's eyes opened.

* * *

_Just one more_, Toki thought. His fingers mashed the buttons, eyes wide and bottom lip cinched between his teeth. One more Pokemon, and he'd move on against the Elite Four.

His concentration broke with the tickle of hair against his shoulder, lips on his ear, and a hand on his thigh under the water. Skwisgaar pressed himself up closer. "Come on, puts dat game down a bits and come backs to my room wit' me."

"Can'ts you wait? I's kinda got something important goings on now."

"What ams more importants?" Skwisgaar twisted some of Toki's hair around his fingers. "Me or some stupids game?"

"It's not a stupids game, Skwisgaar! I beens working _all weeks _for this and besides, I already fucks you this morning. You can _waits_."

Never one to take rejection well, the Swede shifted away and crossed his arms. "_Pfft!_ Who ams to say I stills be interest laters, ah?"

"You always are. You easy, likes that." The muscles in Toki's arms tensed as Skwisgaar attempted to submerge his Game Boy. "Hey, watch what you doings!"

The game's upbeat music carried on throughout the ensuing struggle. English became arduous for both parties, so the flung insults deteriorated to their intended languages of origin. Although certainly pissed that Skwisgaar tried to destroy his game system, something in how the blond bared his teeth snapped Toki out of a fighting headspace. In a sense, he _did_ want to be back in the stark-white bedroom. Was that Skwisgaar's intention? No—Toki wouldn't budge. If Skwisgaar consciously tempted the violence boiling beneath Toki's surface, he'd get it.

"Ow!"

Skwisgaar clapped both hands up to his face. While shock replaced his anger, regret extinguished Toki's. "I's sorries—"

"Fucks you!" Even with blood streaming from his nose, Skwisgaar still tried to hit the rhythm guitarist. The lack of strength behind his barrage of punches and slaps induced an inappropriate giggle on the Norwegian's part.

"What the hell is going on in here?" The cavernous room amplified Nathan's voice. Immediately, Toki and Skwisgaar separated with one more shove on the Swede's part for good measure. "Why're you bleeding?"

"Because Toki fuckings _punched_ me." Skwisgaar lifted himself out of the hot tub with a huff. "Fucks him, I's going to my rooms."

Probably to screw sluts, or to screw himself. _Same thing_, Toki thought with another laugh. Any mirth he experienced ended abruptly, as Nathan snatched the survived Game Boy from his grasp. "Don'ts turn it off, Nathans, I didn't saves where I—!"

Too late.

* * *

Couldn't anyone get laid, around here? Apparently not, when the band's two youngest members found yet another stupid thing to bicker about. If Charles were here, Nathan wouldn't have to deal with this bullshit. A ghost of the game's pixels faded away when he found the On/Off switch. "Why'd you punch Skwisgaar?"

"He was tryings to wreck my game! Not that it matters now. . ." Toki slumped down with a pout.

"Remember what I told you _last_ time you hit someone?"

"Don't hits people."

"Don't hit people," Nathan repeated with a nod. "I don't care _what_ Skwisgaar was doing, it's no excuse for pointless violence."

"You hits people all the time!" Toki protested. "Just last weeks, you hit Moidaface because you was mads about breakfast!"

"Doesn't matter." Nathan could hit Toki now, for distracting Pickles when their pants were already off, but that wouldn't fix anything. "Maybe you should go play outside. Obviously you've got too much energy, and shit. I dunno. Go outside."

"I wants to play my game!"

"Then take it with you!" Nathan snarled. Satisfied, Toki snatched the system from his hand and took off with a towel around his waist. There. Could he and Pickles get back to it, now?

The drummer pat him on the arm as they headed off in the direction opposite the Norwegian. "You handled thet well."

* * *

The first thing Skwisgaar did when he got back to his room was jack off, then he tended to his face. His nose ached, but nothing had broke. Toki could consider himself dead—also dead to Skwisgaar—if that happened. Dumb dildo.

Certain Toki would find him in order to apologize, Skwisgaar practiced his guitar on the edge of his bed. Stupid Toki. Seriously, what about that game would make someone pass up sinking their dick into another human being? It wasn't even _fair_. Skwisgaar rarely bottomed for anyone—rarely even _needed_ someone like he came to need Toki—so what the fuck was up with _that?_

His anger and annoyance rapidly transformed into a sulk Nathan would be proud of. More for theatrics than genuine sentiment, Skwisgaar set his instrument aside. Toki made him crazy, that much was true. Sometimes in a bad way, but mostly good. He could even overlook the sloppy guitar playing, if it meant they remained on speaking terms. Sometimes he _liked_ to piss Toki off, since he grew rougher and less forgiving. Today, that didn't quite go according to plan. Would it stop Skwisgaar from seeking the other guitarist out? Not in the slightest.

A search of Mordhaus' main areas led Skwisgaar past a window where he could see the tennis courts below. The Norwegian leaned over the picnic table, still with that game, which drew the blond regardless. Obviously, he wasn't going to separate Toki from his Game Boy. Although it slighted his pride, Skwisgaar needed to rethink his approach. He could get sex anywhere, so that wasn't paramount with the younger teenager. He only wanted to feel included. . .whether or not Toki succumbed to distraction.

Toki showed no sign that he heard Skwisgaar coming, nor did he react to the blond's greeting. Not to be deterred, Skwisgaar wrapped his arms around Toki's neck from behind. "Am you still workings on those same guy?"

"Nathan turns my game off, so ja," Toki tersely replied.

"How ams it going?"

"I just about dones with the third guy. Why you cares, all the sudden?"

Skwisgaar nuzzled his nose into Toki's cheek.

"If you thinks you getting laid, forgets it."

"I can'ts just do dis?"

"You always wants it to go somewhere."

"Ams dat a crime?"

"Nei, but it gets annoying sometimes."

"Maybes. . ." Could Skwisgaar hold this promise? It was about as close as he ever got to an apology for his sleazy actions, at any rate. "I tries to tone it down a bit."

"Psh."

"Watches me. I go fuck someone else what wants it when you don'ts."

"Goods."

Since Toki didn't shoo him away, Skwisgaar plopped down on the bench. With the heel of his wrist pushed into his cheek and gaze concentrated in the same place as the Norwegian, he pointed at the screen. "Maybes try _dat_ attack."


End file.
